


Masochist

by Im_writing_out_of_time



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Masochism, Reader Insert, Smut, my depressed mind has forgotten how to tag things so excuse me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:58:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_writing_out_of_time/pseuds/Im_writing_out_of_time
Summary: You and your husband, Jefferson have some guests over for a show.





	Masochist

You had no idea how you got here, but you couldn't say that you weren't enjoying it. This was your first time with an audience. You were kneeling in the middle of his parlor, your dress falling loose around your shoulders. There was a blindfold bound tightly over your eyes, the fabric thick enough to hinder your sight, but thin enough for you to see bodies moving in front of the candle light. 

You were aware of the bodies moving around you, staring at you. Jefferson had invited his friends over to watch your humiliation. Your breasts were barely covered by the front of your dress; you could feel the warm air from the fireplace waving over your naked chest. A hand danced over your shoulders, its nails biting in, hard enough to trail blood in their wake. 

You held back a moan. This was exactly what you wanted. 

You loved being dominated, humiliated. You loved the pain that came with every touch; the fingernails, fists. You loved the sting of his riding crop against your skin, the leather bite enhanced by the cold air outside. Jefferson could always give you exactly what you needed. 

He made sure you called him Jefferson. Calling him Thomas while he was dominating you was strictly prohibited. He loved watching you fight against the ropes binding your wrists together, binding your ankles to each other. He loved watching you as you begged for more, your voice thick with pain. But never call him Thomas during a scene. 

You could hear the men moving closer to you. They were allowed to look, but never touch. 

“How much for her, Thomas?” A deep voice resounded through the wide parlor. 

Would Thomas sell you off to a stranger? Would he sell your body to another man? 

“No price is enough for (Y/N). She's my personal little whore and I must admit; I am quite fond of her. Right, slut?” 

Your insides clenched at his words. “Yes, Jefferson.” 

“Good, whore.” A sting from the riding crop slapped across your breasts, leaving a line just above your nipples. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your mouth and Jefferson chucked. The chuckle only served to turn you on more, a fact that was embarrassing all on its own. “Does that excite you?”

“Yes, Jefferson.” 

The front of your dress was unlaced and pulled down even further. His mouth latched onto your breasts, just above your hardened nipples. The pressure was painful to say the least. His teeth dug into your skin, his jaw tightening as you threw your head back, your mouth hanging open in silent bliss. 

A small whimper escaped and Jefferson’s hand immediately squeezed, a vice around your throat. “No noises. Not now.” 

Black filled your vision, white sparkles of light dancing across your eyes. Your body fell limp, being held up only by Jefferson's hands. He lowered you to the ground gently. You were just felt coherent enough to feel what he was doing. The soft glow of the candlelight slowly appeared before your eyes as the blindfold was removed. You could faintly hear Jefferson ordering everyone from the room as he pulled your dress off. 

He looked at you as he eased your dress off your body, the fabric gathering around your bound wrists. “Can you hear me?” 

Your head bobbed gently, your body tingling with pleasure. “Yes, Jefferson,” you whispered, your voice crackling from the hand that had ringed your neck. 

“Thomas,” he said. “The other men are all gone.” 

“Yes, Thomas,” you said, your voice a little raspy, but stronger. 

He smirked at you, his teeth sharp, glistening in the candlelight. “You look beautiful like this, you little whore.” 

“Thank you, Master.” 

A strained growl escaped from his threat. “What was that, whore?” 

“Thank you, Thomas.”

He pushed down on your body, digging your wrists to the floor beneath you. “That's not what you said, pet. What did you say?” 

“Thank you Master!” 

He released your arms and flipped you over. Your nipples were pressing roughly into the carpet as Thomas untied the knots from your wrist and used the rope as a whip. You moaned as you felt the rope rip across your back, stripes of red trickling blood around the edges. 

“Do you like that, you little whore? Do you enjoy feeling pain? Do you get aroused from being beaten?” 

“Oh, yes Master!” You cried. 

In response, Thomas latched his teeth to the side of your neck. You could feel the blood pulsing beneath his teeth as he pierced the skin. His nails dug into your skin as he raked them down your back. His body hovered over yours, his erection pressing into your lower back. He slid down, his hips bucking against yours, and you writhed beneath him. You pressed back against him, your arousal slick against your thighs. 

Your breathing was ragged as your chest was pressed harder into the floor. Your breaths came out in pants, the deprivation of air making itself evident as black spots started dancing against your vision once more. 

The weight moved from your body and you were pushed over on your back. Your chest heaved as you gulped in large breaths of air. “Can you breathe? Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Your head bobbed tiredly, a soft smile of pleasure on your face. “Yes, Master.”

He pushed his body away from you and moved to the fireplace, thrusting the fire poker beneath the fire, in the layer of coals and ash. His body seemed to float around the room as he moved in front of the candle, your body still sprawled out on the floor. 

The glow of the candle brightened as he carried the candle toward you. The wax drizzled over your breasts and you screamed out in pain at the sudden heat. It pooled between your breasts before gliding to pool in the hollow of your throat. Your body shuddered as the wax cooled slowly. 

Thomas held the candle upright as he crouched beside you, his fingers peeling at the hardened wax on your skin. Your body shuddered beneath his fingertips, the wax still liquid against your neck, slowly cooling. 

“Are you ready for the bed, my love?”

“Take me to bed, Thomas,” you whispered to him. He blew out the candle and set it beside him on the floor. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the wax on your neck before picking you up from the floor and throwing you over his shoulder. “Thomas!” You squealed as he carried you to the room you shared. He threw you on the bed and you laughed as your body bounced on the mattress. It was a welcome difference from the carpet that dug into your skin; not that you minded that. 

You knew now that Thomas had gotten his fill of inflicting pain and now was going to be soft and easy, tending to any wounds that needed tending to. 

“Does anything hurt?” He asked as he hovered his body over yours, pressing gentle kisses on your neck. 

“Nothing hurts too much, Thomas. My wrists are a little sore, but I'm alright.”

Thomas took your wrists in his hands and inspected them in the pale moonlight shining though the window. “They don't look too bruised, but we’ll wait and see come morning light.” A gentle kiss fluttered against the chapped skin before his hands released your arms and roamed your body instead. “You're gorgeous,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely breathtaking.” 

You knew better than to rush him, even when he was making love to you, but you wanted him to hurry more than anything. Your thighs squeezed together beneath him and he smirked, pulling your thighs apart and nestling himself between them. “Thomas, please,” you moaned as his tongue danced around your dripping core. “Thomas, _please_.” 

“So impatient,” he chastised, a firm hand slapping your upper thigh. You could almost feel the slap welling up beneath his hand as his fingernails gripped your skin. “You'll get your chance darling,” he mused, whispers spoken against your lips. He sat up, his nails dragging down your legs and pulled at the jacket covering his body, tossing it haphazardly on the floor. 

You could feel the warmth bubbling in your stomach as you watched him peel his shirt off and add it to the pile. Your body was vibrating with need as his hands fell to his pants and stripped them off. Throwing his pants to the ground, you could see his erection tantalizingly hard in front of you. 

Thomas moved his body between your thighs and hooked your legs over his hips. His thrusts began slow and gentle, before his strokes slammed short, quick thrusts into you. Your orgasm had been building all night, and you hadn't bothered to ask for permission to cum. Your vagina clenched around Thomas, his thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppier. 

His body fell on top of you, his sweat sticking to both of you on the cool silk sheets. “You didn't ask for permission to come, you naughty girl,” he smirked tiredly at you, his hand brushing at your hair. 

“I don't know if I could have even managed a word,” you teased back, breathless. “You treat me too well, Thomas. You always know just what I need.” 

“Well you're my number one girl, darlin’. You always have been, always will be.” He rolled his body to the side, his legs tangling with yours. 

“How much would you sell me for?” 

His breath was warm against your face as he breathed. “I said it earlier, darlin’. No price is enough for you. You're my wife, my true love.” He paused. “And you can keep up with me sexually,” he said, smirking once more. “How could I ever send you away?”

You couldn't help the lazy smile that graced your face. “I love you, Thomas.” 

“I love you too, doll face. I always will.”


End file.
